Revenge Wears My Ring novel Chapter 245

“Oh my god! Are we watching a live soap opera right now?!”

“Give the cameraman an award—ten, even! The way this is shot? Absolute drama of the year!”

“Did that homewrecker just try to provoke Gwyneth?”

“It’s her! Queenie—the one who stole someone else’s fiancé and still acts so smug about it?!”

“‘None of your business.’ ‘Annoying.’—Iconic! I’m obsessed!”

“Serves her right! You can’t be polite to a woman like that. Did you see her face twist up? So satisfying!”

“She’s literally stomping her feet in rage. Deserved! Who becomes a mistress and still acts superior?”

“Is Julian blind? Why would he ditch the gorgeous, badass Ms. Fletcher for trash like that?”

“Cheater and homewrecker, locked in together! Do us all a favor and disappear!”

“Boycott Harvest Group! Boycott Locke Group! Support Ms. Fletcher!”

“Guys—screenshot, screen record, let’s get them trending! Expose them everywhere!”

The livestream chat exploded, the screen flooded with furious, gossipy, and pro-Gwyneth comments. Any curiosity or goodwill the audience once had for Julian, thanks to his looks, vanished in an instant—replaced by nationwide contempt and outrage.

Meanwhile, inside the grand ballroom, Julian and Queenie hadn’t the faintest idea that the entire internet was now watching their every move.

Queenie was still shaking with anger over Gwyneth’s attitude, while Julian comforted her, all the while basking in the envious looks from a few guests, even daydreaming about the day Gwyneth would come begging for his forgiveness.

That is, until Duncan, Julian’s assistant, came stumbling over, white as a sheet and clutching his phone. As he hurried past the camera crew and backstage staff, he barked, “Shut down the stream! Now!”

Frightened, the cameraman and techs immediately killed the feed.

Duncan rushed up to Julian, nearly shoving the phone in his face, voice trembling. “Mr. Locke! Something’s gone wrong! The livestream—it was never turned off! Everything just went out live!”

Julian froze. He glanced down at the screen—only to see a wall of furious, mocking comments, each one landing like a slap across his face.

“What?!”

He snatched the phone, eyes wide in shock, all color draining from his cheeks.

He acted instantly, barking at Duncan, “Shut down the trending topics. What does PR even do around here?! Useless!”

“Useless! Completely useless!” Julian slammed the tablet down on the desk, the bang echoing through the office. He turned, raging, on the head of PR, who was standing there, hands at his sides, barely daring to breathe.

“You can’t even handle something this small? Why do I pay you? I want every trace of this gone—now! I don’t care what it costs, get the trending tags down! Wipe out every single negative comment!”

The PR chief was sweating bullets, nodding frantically. “Yes, Mr. Locke, we’re doing everything we can, but the backlash is snowballing—”

“I don’t want your excuses. I want results!” Julian cut him off, eyes cold and sharp.

Taking a few deep breaths, Julian forced himself to calm down, snatched another phone from his assistant, and logged into his official Twitter account. His fingers flew over the screen as he crafted a statement:

“@Julian: The baseless rumors and maliciously edited footage following today’s auction have severely damaged the reputations of myself and my friends. Ms. Fletcher and I parted ways amicably some time ago and wish each other well—there is no dispute. The internet is not above the law. Please do not spread or believe rumors. Thank you.”

With help from hired bots and some clueless bystanders, the comments under his tweet temporarily took on a more supportive tone: “We stand with Mr. Locke,” “So it was just a breakup!” “Peace and love.”

Watching the online mood shift, Julian was just about to order the PR team to keep the momentum going when, suddenly, the head of PR’s tablet refreshed.

He blinked, confusion giving way to shock, then relief—mixed with a hint of disbelief.

“Mr. Locke...” he stammered, looking up, voice shaky. “I think… we might not need to do anything after all…”